Distortion
by Rowan Willowe
Summary: Set somewhere in the middle of the Season Two time period, a runaway Time Agent is chased by a psychopath to Captain Jack's Earth. But appearances are not quite as they seem.
1. Chapter 1

Running

Running. Seemed like I was always running. Each day, filled with running, my nights spent in uneasy slumber, alert at the next time I'd have to take flight once more. Weeks, months… maybe years, I felt like I'd been running half my life now.

How many worlds had passed by, I wonder? Dozens… no, more than dozens. A hundred? A thousand? I'd lost count. I just kept running, jumping from one to another with the help of my wrist transport. It had been getting weaker, though. The last jump had been a wrench of reality twisting around me.

I didn't even know where I was now. The last planet had been predominantly Crespallion, and blending in became nearly impossible. There seemed to be no one here. Some formerly human-based planet, apparently, full of buildings and alleys. Empty of all but rubble, leftovers of some great battle.

I rounded a corner at speed and sped slapdash into what appeared to be an abandoned city center, set on a bay. Wrecks of shattered glass and metal littered the ground like discarded toys. I had to leapfrog several downed obstacles, slowing me down.

I paused to look, a shadow in the twilight hinting at words, letters on the side of something but nothing clear that I could recognize. Right beside the bay, a deconstructed tower echoed with the noise of water falling, drawing me toward it, into an oblong impression built into the ground. As soon as my feet touched lower pavement, I heard a growl behind me.

"Time to stop running, boy. You can't get away from me."

My pursuer was catching up, damn it! I'd have to risk another jump and hope I had a chance to get further away this time. Flipping open the com at my wrist, I pressed the sequence for a temporal shift window and crouched, waiting to leap through the tiny fissure in space.

LIGHT! A bright flash of light startled me into a yelp, the fissure opening wide and strong, flaring light and color I couldn't begin to name. As my pursuit stumbled into the basin, I took off at a sprint and leapt into the spatial crack, hoping it would close behind me.

Mere moments later… or was it a lifetime… I was dumped unceremoniously back onto the pavement. My head was spinning, my stomach roiling. I hit the button again with shaky fingers, closing the fissure soundlessly behind me.

I was back in the oblong walkway. How was that possible? Did the jump fail? No, wait… my mind started to grasp the differences.

First, the sounds of water behind me, then other lights and sounds introduced themselves to my abused senses, a wall of common noise leaping out of nowhere. People walked along the pier, beside buildings, holding hands or chatting amiably in the evening air. A new world, a whole world, mirroring the last but seemingly untouched by war.

A wave of nausea hit and I dropped to my knees, violently vomiting what little food I'd had, retching until there was nothing left, until even the idea of food left my mind. I heaved for breath, wiping my mouth on the back of my sleeve. No one seemed to notice me, sitting cloaked in the shadow of the water tower.

A beeping at my wrist alerted me to another fissure opening, my muscles bunching automatically in preparation to run. The curse of these jumps is I wouldn't know until he was right on top of me if he actually made it through. I'd only have a few seconds, but it might be enough in this crowd.

A commotion behind me, sounds of startle and even fear, followed by retching. I froze, my head was still spinning, the edges of my vision graying out a bit. If he went the other way, I might still lose him in the crowd temporarily. Long enough… I shook my head, trying to keep focused.

Footsteps to my left, booted feet stopped almost beside me. I'd waited too long, now I was caught. People followed behind him at a distance, staring and pointing, whispering. My breath caught in my throat as I braced for the inevitable.

Only… it didn't come. My persecutor, an enormous brute of a man with cold eyes and a cruel slant to his mouth, crouched beside me. He stared at the cooling puddle from my stomach, stirring it with a finger. My gut tensed again in reaction and I held my breath, trying not to compound my potential torture for having thrown up on him.

He swore, wiped his hand on the edge of his coat and stood again. I felt as though I were rooted to the spot, didn't rise, didn't even look up at him, just stared at the dirty, ragged military boots. My voice had failed me and still I waited for the gloating or the crushing grip as he dragged me away.

After a moment, the boots walked off across the oblong, he was almost strolling. Trying to avoid being noticed, after apparently causing a stir with his arrival. Still I remained, my arms starting to shake, my knees aching from the cold hardness of the concrete, my eyes blurring in and out of focus. The crowd that had gathered wandered away from me, still following the feral stranger illogically meandering away down a city street.

No one could see me. The jump must have gone wrong somehow. My consciousness was sent through the window but my body stayed behind. That must be it.

Wait, that couldn't be right. A consciousness doesn't throw up, does it? I was getting confused. Or was everything around me getting confused? No, it was spinning, and the pavement rushed up to meet me.


	2. Chapter 2

Running

Snippets of sound again, vague sensations of things happening around me. There was the crazy feeling that I'd been gently picked up by someone, but not of walking anywhere. Something that felt like a hydro-lift in descent and my mind went blank again.

Laying back on something cold, I caught the faint scent of underground. People were speaking rapidly over my head. I hadn't been harmed or restrained that I could tell. I kept my eyes closed and my breathing shallow to try and get a little bearing on my situation.

Common tongue, called English. Earth. The words slipped out of my memory like an old friend. So it was Earth, then. I'd never been to Earth before, but I'd read about it. Mostly it had been portrayed as a primitive bogey-world full of native monsters and ignorance. I'd focused mainly on the languages.

Now to determine where on this Earth I was. Someplace English-speaking, obviously. That left a few places open. Odd inflection, not the clipped, polished tones of Brit or the rolling, gruff sounds of Scot. Not even the round, untraceable shades of the American continent on which I'd modeled my own speech. This was sweeter, lyrical and lilting.

Welsh. It must be Welsh. I hadn't been able to learn it, but the voices sounded much like the instructor on the language program. Mentally mapping, I listened closer for anything indicating who had taken charge over me.

"…borderline malnutrition and dehydration. Though judging by the mess upstairs on the sidewalk, that's not entirely surprising." A male voice, faintly tinged with know-it-all. "Beyond that, and the obvious exhaustion and desperate need for a bath, he appears to be a young lad in remarkable good health. At least for a surface examination. I'd have to do a full scan to see if there was anything else."

"She." A second voice, also male, younger but deeper in timbre.

"Pardon?"

"She. She's a… she."

"Looks like a he to me."

"What, are you sure?" A female voice this time.

"Of course he's not sure, how would he…"

"Not to interrupt what I'm certain would have been a dryly witty and insightful remark about predilections and not knowing what it was if I'd used both hands and a traveler's guide… I -do- know what it feels like to hold a woman, thus know what one feels like when I am holding her. And that… is an adult, and a girl."

"Sure Ianto." Coughing, suppressed laughter from the male.

"Of course, Ianto." The female this time, deceptively flat.

"Well, male or female… whatever he-she is," A fourth voice, ageless, I couldn't place it but it had an American accent and a faint familiarity behind it, "he-she came through the rift, and we don't know from where."

"Wherever it was, she was being chased." The second male, 'Ianto' my mind started to tag it. "Large man, probably close to 200 centimeters, I'd have pegged him at least seventeen stone, and he did not have a pleasant look about him."

"And you're sure he didn't see him-her?"

"Positive. If I hadn't been looking at that exact spot from the counter I'd have missed her myself."

"He-she," another cough, "is very lucky then. In his-her state, he-she could have lain there until one of us decided to take the lift. Could have been days and no one would have noticed. In this state it would have been dire." The sound of machines, buttons being pushed.

"Yes but how did she get there, on that exact spot? I thought no one else could see it that weren't expecting to."

"That's an excellent question. Tosh," the ageless male voice again. "Any idea what happened?"

"Two temporal anomalies, Jack, windows like John Hart came through." A fifth voice chimed in, another woman. Lots of people here, apparently. "One brought him… her… him… first. The second brought the other. Spaced apart by approximately two minutes. No obvious point of origin."

"And the second was seen by people on the street. We've put out a false report of some sort of electrical disturbance, but that won't hold very long. Owen, anything on the deep scan?"

"If I were a betting man, I'd be out some quid right about now."

"What…"

"Healthy, fit, malnourished and exhausted, yes, all of that. And decidedly female." My eyes flew open, I'd hoped it would take them longer to figure it out.

"And awake." I looked to the speaker, he of the ageless voice, shock rippling down to my toes. I sat up suddenly then stopped, closing my eyes as the world began to swim again. I heard the distinctive click of a weapon, two weapons, and I put my hands up in the universal unarmed sign. The sound of disarming again, and I slowly opened my eyes, letting the world right itself.

"Who are you?" He asked me, hand resting on the weapon on his hip. "Where are you from?"

"My…" My voice came out as a raspy whisper and I stopped, attempting to clear a throat gone completely dry. A cup of water appeared at my elbow, held by a well-manicured hand. I followed the pinstripe-clad arm up to the face of its owner, young and handsome with careful neutrality in his eyes. I took the cup with a nod of thanks, taking a long sip and gathering my thoughts before looking back to my original questioner.

"My name is Deputy Kit Imorië. Where I'm from…" I paused, taking another sip of water. "I'm from all over." I took in my surroundings, I seemed to be in a tiled medical unit set a half-level lower than anything else. Further on seemed to be stone and steel construction, computer arrays and other unnamable things. Brightly lit all around. "Where am I? When am I?" The last I muttered quietly.

"Interesting choice of words." He was frowning slightly now. "How did you get here?" Nothing for it now, I'd have to reveal myself as I was. No doubt my life would depend on it; and they seemed, at least for the moment, wanting to ask questions first and shoot or imprison me later. I held up my arm and pushed back the sleeve to show my wrist device.

"That's like yours, Jack." This was the owner of the first woman's voice, dark haired and trim. She had the look of police about her, only more scattered. Beside her was a diminutive man in a doctor's coat looking at me clinically.

"And like John Hart's." A mutter from the woman I didn't understand, but rife with distaste. I focused entirely on my questioner – Jack, my mind tagged – reading the surprise and speculation as he really LOOKED at me, took in the military coat and wrist manipulator. His hand moved slightly on his gun, but he didn't draw it.

"You're from the Time Agency." A statement, not a question. All five sets of eyes were focused on me now, equally filled with patent distrust. Curious.

"Yes… well… sort of." I coughed, remembered my water. I finished it quickly and cradled the cup in my hands. Everything still seemed a bit wavering, but my head felt fairly clear.

Silence stretched on and no one moved. Obviously they were waiting for me to explain and I shrugged one shoulder, the movement setting off a full-body ache I hadn't realized was there. Not as young as I appeared, and I finished answering the question to take my mind from it.

"I was recruited by the Agency, but it was disbanded before I could complete my training." It still stung, I should have been long finished, but they had kept delaying. I shook my head slightly, then closed my eyes again, dizziness threatening.

"Why are you…"

"If I might interrupt?" The deep voice close by, the young one who'd given me water.

"What?" A sharp retort. This Jack apparently had many more questions for me. As well he should.

"Our… hmm… visitor seems willing to answer any question you put to her, however she also looks to fall over at any moment. When was the last time you ate something?" I opened my eyes again in surprise.

"It was…" I stopped and thought, speaking aloud without thinking. "Not on the last world, certainly, nor the one immediately before that. That was… I'm not entirely sure what the time designation is here."

"Minutes. Hours. Days. Weeks. Months. Years." The doctor rattled off designations and I had to concentrate to make it align with what I could remember.

"Days… days? Two of your days ago." I blinked slowly thinking on that. The last several jumps seemed to have blended together.

"Well then. Maybe a little food and a less… sterile location would make an interrogation easier for all sides." He was looking from me to the one called Jack, who was visibly torn. "Also… I had been waiting for our dinner to arrive when she made her appearance, so… we have food waiting for us. Just thought it might be rude to eat in front of a half-starved… person." I looked to Jack with a curious hope. He was looking at this Ianto with a mixture of amusement, affection and annoyance and then shook his head.

"Alright. Upstairs. But as soon as we're done, I'm going to want real answers."


End file.
